As one who sought the useful to pursue,
And ease the pangs his fellow-mortals knew.
Yes, let them write upon my lowly grave:
“A true Philanthropist is sleeping here!”
And I no other recompense will crave
To cheer me onward in my future sphere.
Such epitaph as that in truth to have
Were worth all wealth that man amasses here.
High Heaven!—Mock-Bird, the rest must stay unwrit!
“Come, quick, Mass' Doctor, ole Missus got a fit!”